


The Pay-off

by seriousfic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Season Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:51:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3977032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seriousfic/pseuds/seriousfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Author’s new world, Regina is such a bandit she’ll steal everything Emma has. Including her heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was good to know that some things were the same in any reality. No matter what life she had led, Regina could still be the most stubborn, obstinate, pig-headed woman that Emma had ever met.

 

“It’s nice that you want me to be in your little cult,” Regina said, taking stock of her limited supplies under Emma’s disapproving gaze. “The kid seems sweet. Good of you to want to share him. But I’m trying to get _away_ from Snow White. I’m not traveling days in the opposite direction to stop the wedding of someone I barely know!”

 

Emma looked away, checking to make sure Henry was still in the hollow of the tree she’d left him napping in. Other than the three of them, the forest clearing was entirely empty.

 

Emma gritted her teeth. “It’d be really cool if you _could._ ”

 

Regina looked briefly to Henry, still asleep, and Emma willed her to picture it. Him being _her son,_ their home, her happy ending. The muscles of Regina’s jaw twitched as she stood, slinging her pack over her shoulder. “And when I do interrupt a stranger’s wedding, simply for the sake of the delusion you’ve clearly passed onto your child, what exactly will I have to show for it?”

 

“I know it’s a risk,” Emma argued desperately, “but isn’t even a chance, _a chance_ at true love—“

 

“With a thief who can’t even grow a proper beard?”

 

Emma’s lips stapled together. “He cleans up nice?”

 

Regina shook her head free of the notion. “I’m sure it would be very therapeutic for your bloodline to see that interrupting someone else’s wedding day isn’t a firm foundation for a relationship, but when I risk life and limb, I like it to at least be for a payday.”

 

“I could pay you!” Emma offered quickly.

 

“With what?” Regina shot back. “Not that your look isn’t dashing enough, but it doesn’t exactly scream ‘manor born.’”

 

“I’ll… I’ll owe you one?”

 

Regina harrumphed.

 

“What do you want? The name of my firstborn? A lock of my hair? Toenail clippings? C’mon, everyone in this realm loves to make deals, there must be something I can give you for a little bit of your time.”

 

Regina thought it over, her lips pinching together, her eyes slowly traveling the length of Emma’s sword and the breadth of her hair... “Nope! Can’t think of anything.”

 

Emma grabbed her arm before she could turn away. “I could swear allegiance to you!”

 

“I’m the rightful heir to the throne. You should’ve done that already.”

 

“If we get to the church and stopping that wedding doesn’t do anything—well, then me and the kid really are crazy, and I might as well be your butler as anything else. I could cook your meals, clean your clothes—anything you want!”

 

Regina thought _that_ over. “Or, we interrupt the wedding, nothing happens, you decide you’re not crazy enough to be my body servant and take off. All your plans seem to involve me taking all the risks while you get everything you want.”

 

Emma bit her lip. At least the Storybrooke Regina was too polite to mention that. “We can’t do an Unbreakable Vow or something?”

 

“I’m afraid not. Maybe in your little fantasy world, we do magic together all the time…”

 

“You’d be surprised.”

 

“But in the real world,” Regina pressed on, “I have no way to trust you and _no reason to.”_

Emma clasped her hands together. “Please. I’m begging you. I will do _anything.”_

Regina looked her over, eyes feeding on her desperation, scheming, fitting together the promises Emma had made. Emma pleaded with her eyes, fingers tightening with each other, turning white inside their gloves. Regina took a step closer, a crooked smirk swimming up to Emma’s face. For the first time, this strange new Regina gave Emma déjà vu of the old one. The Mayor of Storybrooke.

 

The Evil Queen.

 

“Alright,” Regina crooned. “Kiss me.”

 

“What?” Emma countered, giving a start.

 

“You don’t meet many eligible bachelors living in the woods. Oh, there are dwarves, I suppose, but I have a thing for tall men…”

 

“Yeah, who doesn’t? But despite my jawline, _I’m not a man.”_

Regina shrugged. “I’m flexible. You’re cute. And if your story’s true, you’re a princess. I’ve always wondered how a princess kisses…” She took a step closer to Emma, who helplessly gave ground. “You said _anything,_ as I recall. I want to be sure you really are as _desperate_ as you seem to be.” The word ‘desperate’ crackled on Regina’s tongue as if she were savoring it. “One way or another, you’d better convince me that this isn’t a trick. And those lips look quite soft…”

 

Emma pinched them together. “You know, back in the real world—the _real_ real world—we may be Henry’s parents, but we’re not together… you and Robin Hood…”

 

“Uh-huh. And you and your pirate. That why you can’t stop staring at me? Picturing me with a peg-leg and an eyepatch?”

 

“No, I—I don’t stare—“ Emma threw her hands down. “ _Fine._ One kiss. You take us to stop the wedding.”

 

“I’d say you have to enjoy it as well, but I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes. No matter what reality she was in…

 

She reached for Regina’s face, trying desperately to summon up how Hook had looked the last time he changed clothes, but Regina swiped Emma’s hands away. Emma’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping a little—was this all a big _joke?_ —but then Regina was grabbing _her,_ catching her by her jaw and cheek to pull her into a kiss. Emma’s body fell into it. She felt Regina’s lips, her tongue—all at once. ‘Don’t meet many eligible bachelors in the woods’. Somehow Emma doubted that.

 

Regina’s kiss was a blowtorch, melting through layers of useless muscle and bone and gristle, flesh Emma had no idea what to do with, straight down to Emma’s clit, burning it, making it itch for the pressure of Regina’s firm thigh, so close already, one sway of her body away from Emma. Then Regina reached down, right hand actually down the seat of Emma’s pants, to grope her bare ass with shocking pressure. Emma started to protest, tell her that wasn’t in the bargain, but with Regina’s lips against hers it instead became a moan deep in her throat.

 

Regina kissed her harder, the heated feeling of her clit meeting a sudden wetness in her sex, hot oil dripping between her legs. Emma moaned again—it wasn’t even trying to be anything else—but Regina suffocated it with her lips as she reached down lower into Emma’s trousers, fondling the thick curve just above the join of Emma’s upper thigh. The grope pushed Emma forward, along Regina’s body, and Emma was painfully aware of how her current outfit constricted her, kept her from feeling any of Regina’s body but the soft lips that were being so effortlessly hard on her.

 

The hand dipped lower, between the backs of Emma’s thighs, and Emma thought for a moment that Regina was actually going to get a finger through the backdoor—the thought had the disturbing shape of _ohyesplease_ —but instead her hand curled still lower, between Emma’s legs now, under her body, to where she was wet and hot and _Regina’s…_

“Holy shit!” Emma cried, halfway through tearing herself away from Regina’s lips, so it came out as more “mmmmmmmmmmmffghly SHIT!”

 

Regina smiled awkwardly, her lips a crooked line that barely resembled a grin. The fingers of her right hand were rubbing together. “Not many eligible bachelors in the ‘real world’ either, I take it?”

 

Emma blinked desperately. “That was _definitely_ worth a week’s travel! And you’d better hope I don’t kick your ass when you get your memories back!”

 

“Oh, I do believe you want to do something to my ass. Your story’s falling apart a little, princess. There’s no way we’re a couple with a teenage child—not if you still kiss me like that.”

 

Emma wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Regina followed suit—though she was more holding up her fingers to her mouth, running them along her lips…

 

“That’s pee,” Emma said vindictively.

 

Regina glanced down at Emma’s crotch. “And what did you drink? A full keg?”

 

Emma resolutely pulled her vest down so it covered her groin. “Can we go already? I bought a week of traveling and I want to get my money’s worth.”

 

“A week? For one kiss?” Regina laughed. “When did we agree to that?”

 

Emma’s jaw clenched. “I swear to God, Gina, if I punch you right in your flawless face, there’s a chance the real you might not even _remember_ it.”

 

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, it was fun and all. I’d say it was well worth a day’s travel.” Regina smiled brightly. “You’ll just have to think of something else to… _entice me…_ tomorrow.” She leaned in closer and Emma’s heart went straight up into her throat, knocking at her cranium to say _she’s going to kiss you again._ With, like, fifty exclamation points. “The woods get cold at night. Thinking on that should keep you nice and warm.”

 

“Well, too bad,” Emma replied with a dry mouth. “Because I’m not going to think about it at all.”

 

“Alright then. I’ll think about it. I’m sure something will come to me.” Turning on her heels, Regina set off down the trail. “Wake the kid up. We’ve got a long walk ahead of us. And you obviously have a lot of energy to burn.”

 

Emma sighed. Why was it that in every reality—whether she was a queen, a small town politician, or a bandit—Regina had to be so damn stupid sexy?


	2. Chapter 2

It’d been a hard walk. Not for Regina; she was well-used to roughing it. But the uneven terrain taxed the boy greatly. And Emma was even worse. As she explained it, she’d spent years imprisoned. Some family…

 

Regina kept an eye on her. Emma was less liable to complain than Henry, but nonetheless, Regina watched to make sure she wasn’t overexerting herself, stopping for constant breaks and encouraging Emma to take off her boots and massage her calves, lest she tear a hamstring. Going from years of inactivity—even if Emma insisted she’d kept herself exercised—to a forced march was a recipe for disaster if Regina had ever seen one.

 

“We’re not moving until you’ve caught your breath,” Regina said firmly. “And _I said_ to stretch your toes.”

 

“What is it with you and feet?” Emma demanded. “You have a foot fetish?”

 

“What? No, I don’t have any sort of foot magic. The first month I spent in the woods, I gave myself blisters as big as a copper piece, so unless you’d like to take one of those with you back into the ‘real world’…”

 

“You still don’t believe?” Henry asked. “Then why are you helping us?”

 

“I saved her life!” Emma said quickly as she pulled her stockings and boots back on. “She owes me.”

 

“When?”

 

“When you were asleep.” Even more hurriedly, Emma turned to Regina. “Can we go now? It’s almost dark. I assume there are, like, vampires?”

 

“No. There’s a town. An hour’s walk from here. The innkeeper owes me, we can spend the night there. You can also soak your feet in some salt water…”

 

“Oh my God!” Emma yelped as she took off at a hasty trot.

 

Regina followed, intent on making sure Emma didn’t strain anything. Watching Emma Swan walk wasn’t the worst way to keep her mind occupied. Her brain might not’ve been all there, but there was nothing wrong with her ass…

 

 

***

 

The innkeeper was much as Regina remembered him. More dignified when he wasn’t being menaced by ogres. “I’m sorry, Regina, but we’re all booked up. The best I can get you is a double. Two beds, counting the cot in the odd room.”

 

***

 

It really wasn’t so bad. The odd room was a well-sized closet and since they didn’t have really any luggage to store in it, it made for a fine bedroom. Regina claimed it, telling Emma and Henry to take the main bed. “You’re family. Shouldn’t be that weird.”

 

“Yeah,” Emma said, “I kinda arrived after the ‘I had a nightmare, can I sleep with you?’ years.”

 

“Oh?” Regina glanced at the door. Henry had gone to fetch supper. She thought he was hoping to sneak some ale. “After we had him, was he kidnapped by a wizard?”

 

“No… wizards…” Emma sat heavily on the bed, prying off her boots. “Look, maybe you can’t remember this, but I promised I’d always be honest with you. It’s kinda a thing with you.”

 

“Oh, the other me isn’t one of those people who just loves being lied to? How disappointing.”

 

Emma eyed Regina, who laid down in her own bed. With the closet being the size it was, there wasn’t much room to get out of the line of sight through the doorway, not without shutting the door. They could converse if they didn’t mind craning their necks too much.

 

“Well, you don’t care either way,” Emma said. “You’re in this for—well…”

 

“Ulterior motives,” Regina concluded.

 

“Yeah. I don’t even have to tell you anything. None of it’s going to matter once you kiss Robin.”

 

“Have you noticed me practicing for that?” Regina teased.

 

Emma gave her a sharp look. With her boots eased off, she worked off her stockings. Then just relaxed with her feet in open air. “It’s just _weird_ seeing you like this. Not the other way.”

 

Regina perched herself on her elbow. “Like what?”

 

“Like a hero! People owe you favors and give you little tokens and whatever. You’re beloved!”

 

“Try asking them to fight the Queen for me.”

 

“It’s just different, is all.”

 

“Different from what?”

 

Emma rolled onto her side, noticing that Regina was still perched, watching her. “You sure you want to know? Trust me, it’s stupid. I’m pretty sure everything you could say about it, I’ve said at one time or another.”

 

“Your real world is _stupid_?”

 

“That’s how you know it’s real. We have these things called pennies for like no reason… and Eli Roth. Also for no reason.”

 

“So in your world, I’m…?”

 

“Well… pretty much Snow White.”

 

Regina’s face fell. “I’m sleeping with _Charming?”_

“No, no, he’s with Mary-Margaret—wait, you’re not into him?”

 

“You are? He’s supposed to be your father.”

 

“Yeah, I know, I got his hair.”

 

“Since _Robin Hood_ is apparently my true love, I suppose I don’t have much room to complain, but your daddy dearest is just so… so…”

 

“Basic?”

 

Regina’s head turned like she had just seen someone walk on the Moon. “Yes! I don’t know what that means, but that is exactly him!”

 

“The wonders of modern living. We don’t know how to fix the economy, but we do know how to describe Blake Lively.”

 

Regina laced her fingers under her head, relaxing on them. “So, in your world—I’m the Evil Queen and Snow White lives in the woods?”

 

“It starts off that way, yeah. You end up a hero, though. Promise.”

 

“Oh?” Regina’s eyes slid to Emma. “Redeemed by the power of true love?”

 

“I told you, we’re not together. Oh, and uh, Rumpelstiltskin’s the Dark One, Zelena’s green… little things…”

 

“So, mostly I’m just in Snow White’s place and she’s in mine?”

 

“Basically.”

 

“That seems very convenient.”

 

“Yeah, well, they call him the Author, not the Really Good Author. I literally got sidelined by his big dumb plot. And I’m the Savior!”

 

“Delusions of grandeur,” Regina said with a stretch. “That’s nice. Why go a little crazy when you can think you’re King Arthur?”

 

“I actually met King Arthur. Well, Lancelot. You know he’s black? That kinda threw me. Am I just racist or is that a little weird?”

 

“Lancelot _means_ ‘I am black’.”

 

“Really?” Emma squeaked.

 

“No, of course not.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes. “You have a sense of humor here. That’s weird.”

 

“So in my _official_ life, I am formerly evil and have no sense of humor. It’s a wonder you’re so fond of me.”

 

“You feed me,” Emma told her. “I’m like a stray dog. You keep leaving food out, I’ll stick around.”

 

“Cooking? Me? Unless you like squirrel—“

 

“You have this weird thing for apples. You’re not as good at that as you think you are. But the other stuff—lasagna, meatloaf—oh my Christ, you’re like a one-woman cooking show. You’ve even got me trying kale salad.”

 

Regina looked at her again. “And you’re sure we’re not together?”

 

Emma laughed. “This is usually the part where you criticize my parenting.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Well, Henry—it’s been a while. What’s taking him?”

 

“Assuming he is from another realm, I’d guess he’s taking in the scenery. I was like that as a girl. I couldn’t get enough of new places.”

 

“And this place is, you know, safe?”

 

“The innkeeper’ll keep an eye on him. He still owes me. Only a double room indeed!”

 

Emma turned on her side to fully face Regina. “Wait. So if Snow White was like you as a girl, were you like her?”

 

“I’m lost…” Regina yawned. “I must be tired, this bed is starting to feel comfortable…”

 

“But you had a happy childhood?”

 

“I was a princess, so, yes. Until Snow White took over the kingdom and outlawed, well, _me_.” Her eyes traveled to Emma again. The trip came easier this time. “Why?”

 

“The other you… had some mommy issues.”

 

“Didn’t get me that pony when I was six? No wonder I turned to evil.”

 

“She, uh—I assume you know Snow White’s mom. And that she’s not the best.”

 

“No,” Regina said simply.

 

“Well—that was supposed to be your mom.”

 

“Ah. Explains a lot.”

 

“I’ve always kinda wondered what you would be like if it weren’t for Cora.”

 

Regina’s words were cold: “Do tell me if you manage to destroy all my happy memories of my mother.”

 

“You’re not that different.”

 

Regina looked at her sharply. “Oh?”

 

“You have the same strength. No matter what Cora does to you. She just… she tricks you into thinking you don’t deserve to be happy, not without jumping through a bunch of hoops, and it takes you a long time to be able to make that choice for yourself. Here, you’d just be happy. You’d be happy in a heartbeat.”

 

“If I can choose to be happy,” Regina said, “what am I doing in this lumpy secondhand bed?”

 

Emma scooted over. “Here. Bed’s big enough for two. And that closet bed is just about munchkin-sized.”

 

Regina was shaking her head even as she stood. “One kiss and you want to go to bed with me. I must be better at this than I thought.”

 

“Don’t flatter yourself; I just got out of prison. And it’ll teach Henry an important lesson about not keeping his moms waiting.”

 

“Well, if it’ll be educational for a teenage boy, by all means, I’ll ravish you…”

 

Emma retreated beneath the sheets. “You can stay right on your own side.”

 

Regina agreeably slipped under the sheets, keeping to her side of the imaginary line down the center of the bed. She fisted the mattress a little before curling herself around the pillow. “That still leaves the matter of payment for…”

 

“Being in tomorrow’s tour group, I know, I know. Let me sleep on it. I’ll come up with something.”

 

Regina watched as Emma turned on her side, away from Regina. Her posture ramrod-stiff straight down to her ass inside trousers that, Regina’s good fortune, seemed a size too small.

 

“I’ll see if I can come up with a few suggestions myself.”

 

***

 

Regina felt a hand briskly patting her arm, quickly rubbing warmth into it, then pulling back. She blinked her eyes open, rubbed at them quickly. “It’s the middle of the night…”

 

“Henry’s asleep,” Emma whispered, nodding to the closed closet door. “I thought it’s about time we negotiated.”

 

“Yeah?” Regina asked as Emma got out of the bed, bare feet padding across the floor. Her leather vest remained on the foot of the bed with Regina’s fur one. “You’re going in the wrong direction.”

 

Emma stood at the foot of the bed. She leaned from one side to the other, grabbing the columns on Regina’s four-poster bed. She shook them to test their sturdiness, then backed away, just standing in place. “You know what I did in the real world?”

 

“I have my hopes,” Regina smirked.

 

“I was a bail bondsman. But it takes money to start that up. And I needed to get a lot of money, very fast.” Emma broke the belt on her pants quickly. The first few laces of the fly were already undone. Without the buckle, her trousers virtually flew open, unveiling her bloomers over the shaded roundness of her groin. Emma grinned victoriously at how Regina’s eyes stabbed at it. “Tell me—they pay women to dance in this world?”

 

“Yes,” Regina said, hoping Emma couldn’t tell how dry her mouth was. “But they wear clothes.”

 

Emma bent down to slide her trousers down her legs. Regina could see down the top of her shirt—Emma had partially undone that too. It was a slow, subtle dance that Emma did, contorting herself down, staying down with her ass over her head as she—wiggled it.

 

Then she straightened up, pants in hand, and tossed them at Regina. Her legs were strong and bare and didn’t have any fabric on them.

 

“Wimps,” Emma said.

 

She tore her shirt from her body and her brassiere flashed into Regina’s mind, seeming impossibly thin, a brushstroke, a wisp of smoke over cleavage that perfectly topped her lean stomach, the slow undulating of her torso. Then sauntering closer with hips wagging, breasts jiggling, she took hold of the poster of Regina’s bed. Pressed herself to it, a thigh around the thick wooden length, working herself upon it like it was a dance partner. Regina watched breathlessly as her body arced and swayed, all flexibility and sweat. God, Emma wasn’t dancing with the bedpost, it was more like she was… fucking it.

 

Regina reared up as Emma climbed onto the bed, still clutching the pole. She backed into the bed’s headboard like she she was trying to get away, while Emma leaned back, dangling experimentally from the bedpost. Regina could see the thickness of her biceps, how taut they were, how tense. She admired Emma’s strength for a moment—then Emma shook her firm ass, towards Regina, away from Regina, and all the bandit could think of was Emma’s _stamina._

“You want me to dance for you, Regina?” Emma asked, swinging around the bedpost to stand behind it, hooking a long leg around its length in a way that made it impossible for Regina not to think of that leg being wrapped around her. God, she wouldn’t be able to go anywhere…

 

Belatedly, Regina realized she’d been asked a question. “I didn’t think I had a choice in the matter.”

 

“I could always stop… if this isn’t going to get me a tour guide tomorrow…” Emma purred, eyes closed just enough to provoke, to make you think she was _picturing_ something.

 

“One dance, one day,” Regina said quickly, and Emma thrust herself against the bedpost, her covered sex touching the beveled wood.

 

“Not the best tip I’ve ever gotten,” Emma purred, voice huskier, lowering herself down the bedpost before shimmying back up it, dragging her breasts over the pole. “But I didn’t entirely do this for the tips. Sometimes I liked being…” Her hand wandered down, hand flat as if about to paddle her own ass, but then instead she snatched her bloomers, pulled them down over her ass—just a peek, then they were back up. Regina staring at the gauzy silhouette that had momentarily been firm, wonderful flesh. “Watched.”

 

“Just watched?” Regina asked. “Sounds boring.”

 

Emma leapt up onto the bedpost, legs cinching around it, holding herself up first with all four limbs, then slowly letting go with her arms so she hung upside-down from the pole between her thighs. “I had a solution for that.”

 

Regina was speechless, just watching as Emma’s sweaty thighs slipped on the smooth bedpost, bearing her slowly downward to the mattress.

 

“If someone was really loaded—really generous—I’d take him to the champagne room. Or her. Do you know what a champagne room is?”

 

Regina shook her head. Abs tensing, Emma pulled herself back up to the bedpost in a sit-up, choking it with her hands, uncoiling her legs from it, mattress groaning under her feet as she dismounted atop it. Then, as simply as you pleased, Emma took hold of her bloomers and slid them down her legs.

 

She had an ass that begged to be spanked, to be groped, to be fondled. Hell, Regina wanted to bury her face between those cheeks and just find out if it was anywhere near as soft as it looked. But then Emma turned around—both agonizingly slow and far too fast for Regina to get anywhere near a proper look—and when she was facing Regina, her hands were held in front of her groin. Regina could see the V of her pubis, all of her thighs and waist and tight, compact belly—all but the place she’d so briefly touched the other day.

 

Emma came closer, smiling at how agog Regina was. Well, maybe in the real world, you could see a next-to-naked woman with a body like _that_ every day, but here—Regina felt like her eyes were feasting.

 

“I asked you if you know what I did in the champagne room?” Emma asked in a babyish voice, and Regina looked at her to give her a pronounced shake of the head. For some reason, that made Emma smile even wider. She was standing right in front of Regina now, almost pressing her into the headboard— _God,_ could Regina _smell_ her, or was that just her imagination? “In the champagne room, I didn’t dance for everyone. I gave one lucky SOB a private dance. Do you know what _that_ means?”

 

Regina’s frustration boiled through her arousal. “No, I’m clearly not familiar with your idea of naked money dancing! Please stop being rhetorical!”

 

Emma laughed out loud. Regina would’ve minded even more if it hadn’t been such a cute laugh.

 

“A private dance,” Emma said, and suddenly slipped down Regina’s body to straddle her lap, hands off her crotch, now on Regina’s shoulders, chest upthrust so she was practically presenting her breasts to Regina. They were about the only thing that could distract Regina from the knowledge that Emma was completely bare, right next to her, the only thing between them Regina’s clothes and a damnably thin sheet. “That’s where I get to touch someone. And…” she added, picking up Regina’s arms and draping them over _her_ shoulders like they were about to dance. “They can touch me. If I want them to.”

 

“And did you?” Regina asked, softly, like she could hide the lust in her voice by making it a whisper. “Want to?”

 

“No,” Emma answered without hesitation. “None of them were like you.”

 

Regina swallowed. “You know…” She just had to look down and she would see Emma’s womanhood. It was right next to her. Right _there._ So why couldn’t she stop looking at Emma’s damn _eyes?_ “You could buy more… tour guiding. Ahead of time, I mean.”

 

“Yeah?” Emma asked. She brushed at Regina’s arm on her left shoulder, and for a heart-stopping moment Regina thought she was going to stop her from touching Emma—but she was only moving Regina’s arm so she could get to the strap of her brassiere. She tugged it down her arm.

 

“The whole week’s travel,” Regina said—practically begged. “If you play your cards right…”

 

Emma took hold of the sheet between them, pulled it in her direction, toward the foot of the bed… hiding herself behind it, but also exposing Regina. Regina shivered. She’d taken the slip with her when she’d left the castle as a teenager—since then, she’d clearly grown. It still fit her… just not quite all of her.

 

Emma’s voice became a whisper that was hard as steel. “Are you wet, Regina?”

 

Regina nodded.

 

Emma’s voice was even lower now. “If I touched you, would my fingers slip right inside?” Regina wouldn’t have heard at all if Emma hadn’t been leaning in, her lips so close they were all Regina could see.

 

Regina nodded harder, eyes closer, dreading Emma’s touch as much as she wanted it. It had been so long. Why had Regina let it be so long? She hadn’t even touched herself in weeks, but it all seemed worth it with Emma about to… everything feeling like it was supposed to feel, not shameful, quick, ugly, but _right._

Emma’s lips were next to Regina’s. Her own mouth _tingled_ where Emma’s lips should’ve been minutes ago. “Would you come for me, Regina? Come so hard this bed wouldn’t be dry for a week?”

 

“Oh, _fuck!”_ Regina moaned, feeling like she’d come then and there. “For God’s sake, would you just—“

 

Emma reared up. “Earn another day’s transport? I thought I already had.”

 

Regina blinked. “But… the rest of the week…”

 

Emma rolled off Regina. “We can work that out tomorrow.” She pulled her bloomers back on. Regina hadn’t even _seen._ “But that was a hell of a dance, right?”

 

“You can’t just… I mean… aren’t you going to…?”

 

Emma looked at her seriously. “Don’t you know, Gina? There’s no sex in the champagne room.”


	3. Chapter 3

Another day, more road. This time one of Regina’s ‘contacts’ managed to get them onboard a carriage headed East. Well, more like a wagon. They sat among bottles of hay-packed whiskey as ahead of them, the brewer sang off-key to his pack horses.

 

The wagon’s old wheels seemed to find every bump and pit in the road. Emma sat on one side of the wagon, Henry under her arm, and Regina sat across from them. It made Emma feel guilty, like this was all some horrible wish she’d made finally coming true—Henry being her son but not Regina’s, all their history and love pulled aside so he could be all hers. But she hadn’t wanted that, she’d _never_ wanted that—not really.

 

Late in the day, at a fork in the road, the brewer stopped. This was as far as he could take them. Regina thanked him for his troubles, slipping him a vial of something in payment, and then they were off—the erstwhile family down one road, him down the other.

 

It was taking far too much effort to rouse Henry from his nap in the cart. Emma wondered if it tired him out, seeing her like this. So like the mother he had grown used to, but with years of distance between them, interspersed in the blink of an eye. So many habits and tics that he wasn’t used to, reminding him that she wasn’t quite his mother anymore. After so little time in his life, she had spent so much time in Lilith’s prison cell…

 

Or maybe it was just that he’d wanted Regina to be on their side of the wagon as much as Emma had.

 

Regina decided they could stop for the night, taking them off the path and to a suitable hiding spot. The road ended anyway, in a town they didn’t want to try their luck in. She would have to find a trail and she couldn’t do it in the dying light. So they made camp, all of them bumping and stalling against each other: Regina knowledgeable about woodcraft but used to working alone, Emma trying to remember something other than gray walls, Henry just not knowing what to do. Finally they had a small fire, blankets set around it, some stew being cooked. Emma sat down and thought about how hard it’d become, just to have that.

 

There wasn’t much to talk about. Regina ate her bowl, then set it down and got up to wander off. Emma thought she was just relieving herself, but she didn’t reappear. Henry looked at her with increasing worry.

 

“I’ll go check,” Emma said. “You get some sleep.”

 

Henry seemed like he might protest, but was too tired to do more than nod glumly. He was mostly out of it by the time his head hit his cushioning arm. His eyes just stayed open, blandly watching Emma as she walked away.

 

She found Regina over a rise, sitting on a log, staring up at the sky.

 

“Not going to help with the dishes, huh?”

 

Regina glanced at her. “Tomorrow’s trip. I don’t quite know our bearings, but that up there—“ she pointed to three bright stars in a vague triangle, “is Gaia’s Fist. We follow that, we should find Tinker’s Road. That’ll take us the rest of the way.” She smiled at Emma, telegraphing a joke. “Tell me that when _I_ was the Evil Queen, I spent at least a little time on infrastructure.”

 

“It was before my time.”

 

Regina nodded absently, now staring upward again. “Your kid seems to be running low on his annoying optimism.”

 

“He’s had a tough week.”

 

“I’ve had a tough life,” Regina said, not unkindly. “I get the sense I’m not the only one.”

 

“I’m used to jail. Just one of those personalities. Some people can’t take it, I can. And Henry’s a trooper, he’ll be fine.”

 

“I was a ‘trooper.’ And I’m fine.” Regina looked at Emma again. Her eyes were so different. Clearer than they normally were. Not trying so hard to figure her out. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have liked someone to…”

 

She clenched her fist, gestured vaguely with it.

 

“Are you volunteering?” Emma asked.

 

“I wouldn’t know—“

 

“You’re his mother. I don’t believe the Author can erase that. Not with all his magic.”

 

Regina shook her head. “I was a princess once. And all that went away. Even if he was my son—it can go away like that. Everything can be taken away.”

 

“Then help _me._ Because I see him pulling away from me when I’m supposed to be there for him to cling to—last night he wasn’t seeing the sights, he wanted to be _alone,_ and I don’t want him to be! Only I never had anyone either. I don’t know how to make this stuff better. I don’t know how to lie like that.”

 

Regina fisted the log next to her. Emma sat down beside her. “Snow White was a good mother—for a while. I might’ve picked up a few things.”

 

 _I wouldn’t know,_ Emma thought, then wondered how she could be bitter about that but not at the woman whose fault it was.

 

“Maybe he hasn’t said what’s hurting him,” Regina continued, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t see the knife sticking out of him.”

 

“Hook,” Emma said.

 

Regina blinked. “I didn’t think my metaphor really needed to be any more grisly…”

 

“No, no, Captain Hook, Killian. We were together in Storybrooke—Henry was kinda getting used to the idea of the three of us. Then, here, he helped Henry rescue me. And he died, helping us escape.”

 

Regina drew herself up, her feet uncertainly trailing over the forest floor. “Your True Love?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know—you’re taking it very well.”

 

“Well, by this place’s standards, I guess I’m supposed to be swearing eternal vengeance and conquering the world, so…” Emma shook her head. “Once we break the curse, everything’ll go back to normal. He’ll be alive—none of this will have ever happened.”

 

Regina nodded for her. “I hope you’re right. Still, it must be awful. Seeing that happen to someone you love.”

 

Emma’s head shook again. “It’s not real. This world, it’s just like a movie. Nothing that happens in it is—I’m numb to this. All the years passing, all the chains and bars, it’s just a dream. That’s different in the real world. When you see something there, you can’t look away.”

 

“You’ve lost people?”

 

“Yeah. It hurt like hell. I’ve thought you were dead, once or twice. The other you, she’ll sacrifice herself at the drop of a hat.”

 

Regina clinched her hands nobly. “Anything for my darling Robin,” she said in a falsetto voice.

 

“For the entire town. Or Henry. Or, you know, me.”

 

“Well… wouldn’t want to lose someone who enjoys my cooking.”

 

Emma smiled. Thought how dumb she was not to realize that Regina wanted to cheer her as much as Henry.

 

In Regina’s own careful way.

 

“Can I tell you something?” Emma asked.

 

“Well, I’m apparently a figment of a hack writer’s imagination, so go ahead.”

 

Emma smiled sourly at her. “You’re _you,_ even with someone slapping on a fresh coat of paint. Trust me. I recognize you.”

 

“Okay then. Tell your best friend who doesn’t remember you _everything_.”

 

“I spent so many years apart from Killian in that cell, I thought I would be so happy seeing him again. And I tried to be, but I think it was just—seeing Henry and getting out, all of it, just this adrenaline rush. Because losing him, it hurt, but I don’t feel it anymore. It’s just like this sting. I’m here with you, and Henry—my family—and I forget all about it. It’s like… like I had a _crush_ on him, and it passed, and I expected it to just start up again and… it didn’t.”

 

Regina nodded. “Tell me—did he pursue you or you him?”

 

“Normally, here’s where I’d tell you off for thinking one person has to be pursuing the other, but yeah—he pursued me.”

 

Another nod. “Sometimes a person can want to be in love with us so badly that we want to be in love with them too. There’s nothing wrong with them. They make us feel certain things. But we know deep down— _we’re_ not together in it. They’re in the thing, and we just can’t be there with them. One of life’s little charms.”

 

“Gee, Regina, you make it all sound so lovely.”

 

Regina looked up at the stars again. “They do it to themselves. Fool themselves into thinking they deserve something—but I think they know, if it’s real or forced. In love, you can fight to be together, but you can’t fight to feel something. Make something real when it’s as made-up as a story in a book.”

 

Emma looked out at the woods. Miles of them. They seemed darker than the forest outside Storybrooke. There was some knowledge she held that in the real world, the woods were an obstruction to civilization—patches of nature criss-crossed by airplanes and roads and power lines. And here, civilization was surrounded by nature. It pressed in on all sides. You didn’t visit it, you submerged yourself in it.

 

“Henry’s going to be fine,” she said. “We’ll get back to Storybrooke, and Killian will be alive again, and you’ll be his mother again, and if he’s still hurting, then we’ll deal with it together. All of us. We’ll be a family again.”

 

The moonlight came down on Regina’s upturned face, making it look slightly spectral with the darkness obscuring all the details of her body, the hard life that’d marked her so, made her clothing armor instead of anything else. “I’m glad it makes you happy to think so.”

 

Emma growled “Don’t you want that?”

 

“Become another person, be in love with a man I barely know—sounds like I’m a princess again. Only my father never would’ve married me off so callously.”

 

“It’s not _like that,_ I’m fixing you!”

 

“The woman you miss so much seems just as broken as me.”

 

Emma growled again, this time in frustration, as she stood sharply. “Can we just get some sleep? It’s that damned wagon ride. Sitting around all day sapped our energy, and we’re all feeling like assholes, and in the morning, when we get some exercise and some fresh air, everything’ll seem better.”

 

“I’m sure it will.”

 

Emma clenched her teeth on yet another growl. She never would’ve guessed that Regina _agreeing with her_ could be so much more annoying than the Mayor of Storybrooke giving her hell. “What’s the payment, anyway?”

 

Regina blinked at her. “Payment?”

 

“For tomorrow. Getting us that much closer to our happy endings. What do you want? Another kiss? Another dance? What?”

 

Regina shook her head. “Nothing.” She stood, seeming weary, old, cracking her neck explosively once she’d reached her full height.

 

“You’ve gotta want something. You’ve been a big help to us. I could rub your feet, I could sing an embarrassing song…”

 

“No charge,” Regina insisted. “I’ll take you there, but I don’t want anything from you.”

 

Emma fired her hands downward. “Well, why the hell not?”

 

Regina resisted the urge to throw her hands up. It would feel too much like a fight. “I don’t know, because I’m a great big bloody hero, just like you said, and heroes don’t accept payments for helping damsels in distress and lost little boys.”

 

She tried to walk past Emma. Emma stepped in front of her, close, blonde hair glowing silver in the moonlight. It almost hurt Regina’s eyes, it was so bright.

 

“You liked kissing me,” Emma said. “You liked when I danced for you.”

 

“Emma, I’m tired.”

 

“ _What do you want from me?”_ Emma demanded. “You can have anything. Anything you want.”

 

“Not anything—“ Regina said wearily.

 

Emma undid her vest. It parted without a sound, flowed down her back and became just another fallen leaf on the ground. Her white blouse shimmered with light, as ethereal as the mist on the mossy glen or the glint of sweat down her neck.

 

“Anything,” Emma insisted. She tried to joke. “We’re not in the champagne room…”

 

Regina fixed her with a glare and for a moment Emma tasted the Evil Queen, all that rage and pain and need that she could stab into someone like a knife. “I want you to kiss me because _you_ want to, not because you’ve got an excuse.”

 

Emma hadn’t known what she wanted until just that moment, and then, she wanted it more than she’d wanted anything in her life. She wanted Regina to be looking at her like this, speaking to her like this. She wanted to be the one who had all of Regina. She kissed her like she would never do anything else.

 

But that wasn’t enough for Emma. Nothing seemed like it could ever be enough. She kept kissing Regina, pulling at her clothes, Regina fighting to get her own clothes off faster than Emma could. Emma wanted to kiss all of Regina’s nakedness, show every bit of her how loved she was.

 

Finally, they fell into a kind of lockstep. Emma ripping Regina’s clothes away as Regina tried, with desperate methodicalness, to remove Emma’s clothes in any kind or order. Emma found herself shivering, flesh goosepimpling as the cold forest air rushed in under her loosening clothes. Easy solution: she pulled Regina against her, crushing their warmth together.

 

Regina finally broke the stunned silence between them. She moaned with Emma’s head between her breasts, lips tangling with her left nipple. Then, as Emma tried frantically to pull down Regina’s leggings, she somehow just pulled up Regina’s legs instead, getting them wrapped around her own waist as she bore Regina to the ground, the fall somehow not interrupting their protract, bodily kiss. She kissed the undersides of Regina’s breast, the sensitive flesh’s interrogation sending Regina into an elaborate gasp as Emma shoved at her trouser’s waistline, skirting it down Regina’s hips.

 

“Kiss me again,” Regina begged as Emma kept lowering herself down her body, kissing her belly now. Scars, burns, a hundred stories Emma didn’t know, but she wanted to erase all of them so that there was only _her._ “Please, Emma, my lips—“

 

The dip in Regina’s voice, needy and vulnerable, was more tempting than any come-on Regina could ever make. All Emma could do was keep to her momentum, not stop moving until she had what she wanted. Regina’s undergarments weren’t the RenFaire For Dummies kind Emma had adopted—by Regina’s standards, Emma thought she must’ve been going commando. And Emma had no patience to learn about high fantasy Spanx. She ripped into them, tore through them, not stopping until there was nothing between her mouth and Regina’s sex.

 

“Oh!” Regina said, more surprised than anything else, but the way her legs clenched at Emma’s head—the way her gate clenched at Emma’s tongue—told her more than dirty talk ever could.

 

MINE, Emma spelled out with her tongue. No matter what the realm, what the circumstances, who they were or who they’d been, she wouldn’t let this— _them—_ ever be anyone else’s. It was far too precious. No one but her knew what to do with it. Not even Fate.

 

“Stop, sto—“ Regina groaned, and Emma immediately pulled away, her own lust shrinking to nothingness in the face of her concern over Regina.

 

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” Regina assured her, smiling goofily at her own foolishness. She reached down to pet Emma’s face. “That was—wonderful. Just… too much wonderful? Slower? Please?”

 

“Slower,” Emma agreed. She kissed Regina’s belly, soft, lingering. “Just tell me whatever you want, okay? I just want this to be good for you.”

 

“Then keep going,” Regina told her, with a little bit of Mayor Mills demand in her voice. “And if you want to go fast—just wait a little while. Until I’m ready.”

 

“Let’s get you ready then,” Emma said, and kissed lower. Gently. Savoring the little taste, the heat she felt on her lips that went right down between her legs. A slow, flickering flame she was stroking in both of them.

 

She had to remember: this wasn’t her Regina. Not yet, not totally… she wasn’t the Evil Queen, not even the Mayor. The armor wasn’t as thick. She could take it off, if only for the right person.

 

“Emma…” Regina’s lips formed the word slowly, tentatively, like it was a word in a new language.

 

Then Regina moaned, small, timid sound, as nervous to express her pleasure as she was to name who was causing it. Her hands glided down her body, but only to clinch in the hem of her shirt. Emma peppered Regina's inner thigh with kisses, hoping the fast, hot strikes of her lips so close to her sex wouldn't be too much for Regina, then treated Regina to a leisurely lash of her tongue, finding Regina's need, answering it.

 

"Emma!" Regina said, louder, more confidently, her fingers white-knuckled around the tattered remains of her clothes. Their eyes met as the tip of Emma's tongue met her clit; then Regina's head flew back, mouth open, the sound a paralyzed croak against her own balled fist.

 

One hand remained lost in the neutral zone between Regina's body and the portion Emma had claimed. Emma reached up to it, her eyes once more locking with Regina's as she took hold of Regina's hand, loosened it, guided it down to her own face. She kissed it, rubbed it over her face, then wound it around her hair. Regina looked overwhelmed. She'd been afraid to touch Emma, afraid of the feel of her. Her other hand came down, caressing Emma's face, thumb tracing her lips, Emma kissed the heel of her hand before it went to the crown of her head and nudged her down. Then, safely in Regina's grip, she returned to her lover's pleasure.

 

"Emma!" It was a scream, now.

 

Regina's body was a sheen of sweat, the sight of her rapturous within her ravished nudity, her breasts heaving, her perfect skin aglow, a surprised and shockingly genuine smile twitching with every touch between them. Emma imagined her naked ass wagging in the air wasn't an eyesore either. But all they could look at was each other's eyes. Regina's were pleading, open and full of need, no restraint, nothing held back. Nonetheless, she would leave nothing to chance.

 

"Please," She said, her smile momentarily faltering. "I need..."

 

"Always," Emma promised her. She reached up to one of Regina's hands, it released from her head, fingers finding a fit with Emma's. Their palms met as Emma licked Regina again, more, faster now, but only as much as Regina wanted. Her thumb stroked the back of Emma's hand. Her hand in Emma's hair was soft, with a cooing touch across Emma's scalp. Emma felt a kind of peace, even as her need for Regina became that of an addict.

 

Regina's eyes relaxed as she realized this was real, that Emma was real, that she could have this and it wouldn't go away, leave her, abandon her, be taken from her. It was hers. She gave herself to it fully.

 

"Take... take me." Her eyes closed. She knew Emma would be there when she opened them. Another lick. Tingles soared up her body. She only wished she could kiss Emma, as if that would somehow share the pleasure she was feeling. She desperately wanted Emma to feel as passionate as she was. She wanted it to be something only the two of them had ever felt.

 

Emma stopped suddenly, Regina's sex wet and hot and ready but nothing was happening, the heat was lingering but burning no hotter, and Regina opened her eyes and saw Emma crawling up her body, lying beside her.

 

"I was about to—"

 

"I know," Emma said soothingly, rubbing Regina's thigh. "I know. It's better this way. Put your arms around me."

 

Regina did, trusting Emma over her own doomsaying body, and Emma put one arm around her body, holding them tightly together as her other hand skated down Regina's flesh, between Regina's legs, touched her with callused fingers but the same hungry need, the same desperation to satisfy Regina that the bandit now could not help but think of as uniquely Emma Swan.

 

"First time?" Emma asked, her fingers inside Regina--in places Regina hadn't known were to be touched, were to be pleasured, when they were so obviously meant for that. Meant for Emma.

 

"First time in a long while. First time... like this," Regina finished awkwardly, and Emma smiled. She knew exactly what Regina meant.

 

"Kiss me when you finish," Emma said, and her fingers... there was a place inside Regina that held all the pleasure in her body and Emma's fingers were so close to it, so close...

 

Their eyes met. It had been breathtaking across the span of Regina's body. Nose to nose, it was overwhelming. Emma saw more than pleading in Regina's eyes. There was nothing to beg for. There was just gratitude, affection, warmth... more. So much more.

 

Regina threw her lips to Emma's neck, unable to find her lips in the mad rush of sudden clenching, sudden wetness, sudden tension and sudden release. Her mouth fell open, panting gasps at Emma's jugular as she tried to express something that could never be words, or any of the foul animal noises that might capture her satisfaction but nothing else. Emma stilled her fingers, wanting to try and prolong Regina's pleasure but afraid of overdoing it again. Regina's cunt massaged her fingers, all of the strength of her body there, none in Regina's head as it lulled back, mouth still open, shuddering low-pitched gasps now escaping from her voicelessness. 

Emma took her hand away when she was sure Regina was too satisfied to enjoy it, too relaxed for it to twinge. Regina’s mouth still hung open. Emma closed it for her, kissed the join of her lips, and Regina’s mouth dropped again. This time into a smile. The kind of grin Emma usually only saw on Regina when she was burning something.

 

“I adore you,” Regina laughed.

 

“Oh, so that’s what you were doing,” Emma said. “ _Adoring_ me.”

 

Regina tucked her head under Emma’s chin, face lost in the warmth of her chest, and Emma held her there. She didn’t know how she knew just how much Regina needed to be there; she just knew. It felt as right as she remembered their magic being.


	4. Chapter 4

They held themselves there for a long moment—the time it took the moon to come out from behind a cloud—both wanting to see how long this could last. Then they broke. Neither wanting to know how quickly it could end, either.

 

***

 

Regina slept beside Emma. On the other side of Henry.

 

***

 

Emma woke up first, for once. Like her body had finally gotten enough sleep. She kissed Regina awake, then Henry. Right cheek, left cheek. Her family. Loved ones. Clan. All those bullshit words people who had people used to mock people who didn’t—she finally felt like she had it. Not some crazy magical freak-out, a mother and a father and friends and family all forced upon her out of the blue, but something she’d discovered.

 

“Come on, losers,” she said cheerfully. “Up and at ‘em.”

 

***

 

The walk felt better—legs stretching with every stride, leaves greener, sunlight brighter. Everything magical. Like her storybook had finally found its plot. She got her son back, she got Regina back, and then—

 

 _Then what?_ Needled a little voice in her head with a petulance like Henry at his worst. _You get to the wedding and what happens?_

 

She didn’t care. Wouldn’t care. She’d been afraid of being happy too long. The world had told her to seize onto being happy, and now she was supposed to look a gift horse in the mouth? No. It would all work out. It would.

 

***

 

They made such great time that Regina—the relentless taskmaster of the past three days—let them make camp early. They stopped trailblazing by a pond Regina thought only she knew about, the water clear right down to the bottom, every fish seeming to swim in a valley of thick air. Regina set Henry to fishing. His cast needed immediate, intensive work.

 

“How can a son of mine not know how to fish?” Regina asked as she and Emma went to gather firewood. “Perhaps I don’t expect him to be able to bring down an elk at his age, but a fish? How much fight can a fish put up?”

 

“The other you wasn’t really the outdoorsy type,” Emma explained.

 

Regina sighed. “All the more reason to teach him before we… go back.”

 

Emma picked up a fallen branch, swinging it through the air before tucking it under her arm. “So you don’t think we’re crazy anymore?”

 

Regina looked back at her, shaking her head with a slowness that tingled like a lie at Emma’s superpower. “Whatever else you are, you’re not crazy. Which means the whole world is crazy instead. Not the first time I’ve had that particular thought…”

 

“Hate to disappoint you, but the real world isn’t much better. It does have indoor plumbing, though. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

 

Regina picked up a comparatively narrow log, tested its sturdiness by thumping it against a tree trunk, then passed it back to Emma. There was something delicious about her steadfast competence—it reminded Emma of how coolly calm she could be about the most powerful of magic. Back in Storybrooke, that’d annoyed Emma. However much she tried, she couldn’t be the sorceress Regina was. She didn’t feel that competitiveness now. Why would she? They were a team.

 

Emma set down the branches she’d been pack-muling. “Come over here,” she told Regina.

 

Regina looked at her dubiously. “Why?”

 

Emma shifted on her heels. “I wanna see if you’re just that damn beautiful up close.”

 

Regina took a half-step toward Emma, almost involuntarily it seemed. Looking over Emma’s shoulder, she could see the pond in the distance—a fair ways away. Not too close for sound to carry… not if Emma gagged her with her hand as she had last night…

 

Regina shook herself out of it. “Emma, we need to talk.”

 

Emma nodded agreeably. “We should talk. Definitely. Continue that conversation we started the other night. You were _begging_ me to do something to you, but we never quite established what it was… if you’ve forgotten, I have a few suggestions…”

 

Regina held herself still, though heaven help her, she wanted to be closer to Emma. She never wanted to be so far from Emma that she couldn’t be grabbed and kissed and… _damn._ She couldn’t stop thinking about it.

 

Emma saw she wouldn’t budge and sauntered closer, her hips swaying, her walk brusque and flexible and a little domineering—the swagger of it—Regina wouldn’t have minded if Emma walked right over her.

 

“I mean it,” Regina said seriously, her hands bunched together. “We need to talk.”

 

Emma stopped with a sigh. “Yeah, some things never change.” She reached out, placing her hand on Regina’s forearm. When Regina didn’t push it away, Emma smiled and tugged. Regina came close enough for Emma to at least pet her hair. “We can talk after.”

 

“Emma…”

 

“You _cannot…_ ” Emma said, equally serious, as her hand delved into Regina’s trousers, “taste that goddamn good…” Regina shivered as she was touched. It felt better with the gloves, because she knew it would feel even _better_ when it was Emma’s bare hands, somehow. “And not let me have any more.”

 

Emma took her hand away. Brought it to her mouth. Regina thought if she could just watch how Emma licked her fingers another dozen times, she wouldn’t need to be touched.

 

“What happens when we get to the wedding?”

 

“The wedding?” Emma asked, looking down at her own ring finger as if, perhaps while she’d been asleep, Regina had slipped an engagement ring on her and booked a chapel.

 

She wouldn’t put it past her.

 

“Robin’s wedding. Which I’m supposed to stop because he’s my True Love and if I just kiss him…” Regina stopped. Her eyes went to Emma’s fingers. They were still wet, why’d they still have to be wet? “He doesn’t really feel like my True Love right now.”

 

“I don’t know!” Emma said. “We’ll figure it out! Everything’ll go back to normal!”

 

“Last night felt normal,” Regina said softly. “It felt _right._ ”

 

“I don’t know if I’m really Regina Mills True Love material,” Emma tried to joke, though her delivery had a deathly cadence.

 

“So what were we doing last night?”

 

“I never said—“

 

“I know you didn’t,” Regina admitted. “I didn’t either. But the way you kissed me… the way you touched me… is Robin going to touch me like that, when I’m his True Love? Am I going to forget all about this? Is that my Happy Ending?”

 

“I said I don’t know. I just know we have to stop the wedding and then…” Emma puffed her cheeks out. “We just stop the wedding.”

 

“It’s in three days. How can you not have a plan for three days from now?”

 

Emma raised a finger. “You’ll get used to that very quickly, knowing me…”

 

Regina broke away from Emma’s gaze, angrily hoisting twigs off the ground. “I don’t even care about True Love’s Kiss or Happily Ever After, any of that! I can barely believe it just thinking it through in the light of day. But I trust you. So fine. _You’ll think of something._ So just tell me what last night meant to you.”

 

“C’mon, Regina…”

 

“C’mon?” Regina questioned. “A minute ago, you were all but drooling over the prospect of having me on the grass all over again, now it was, what, just passing the time?”

 

“It wasn’t that. _You_ weren’t that. I just—I’d been in a cell, for _years._ Not one familiar face, not one _friend—_ the first day I get out, someone I cared for died right in front of me. And then you were there and…” Regina was slowing down in collecting twigs. Emma knelt down beside her, stopping her. “Like you said. It felt good. It felt right. Why does it have to be anything other than that? Why’s it have to be True Love? Can’t it just be… fun?”

 

Regina huffed a breath.

 

“Well, you can’t tell me you’ve never had fun!” Emma said indignantly. “I know I have!”

 

“ _That_ wasn’t fun. You held me! I felt the breath soften in your lungs and your heartbeat slow down until you could’ve died in my arms. You’re telling me you could’ve had that with anyone? That if Hook were still alive, you’d—“

 

“ _Don’t_ ,” Emma said, an instant warning.

 

Regina didn’t take it. “If it’d been me that died,” she said, “would you be lying with someone else. Explaining to them how… _fun_ they were?”

 

Emma grabbed a branch from Regina and threw it off to the side, only realizing how petty the gesture was when it hit a tree with a tiny _thak!_ “I don’t remember you complaining. I wanted someone to kiss, I wanted someone to hold, it was a week’s journey and you—you wanted the same things!  Who cares if it only lasts a week?”

 

The twigs made a motley collection of rattlings as Regina dropped them all at once. Grabbing Emma by either side of her face, about to kiss her but not daring to. “Because I want more than a week.”

 

Emma swallowed. The twinge she’d nursed all day, the heat she’d felt being alone with Regina, it was nothing compared to how her body responded to this passionate, possessive Regina. It was intoxicating, just being the center of her attention.

 

“What we want doesn’t matter,” Emma said slowly. It sounded like what Snow would say, but it was so hard to think of her at a time like this. “We have to think of—what’s best for—what’s best,” she finished. Though it felt like there was more.

 

Regina leaned in. Their first kiss, that first day, felt like _nothing_ compared to how Regina kissed her now. Like everything Regina felt was finally spilling out of her, and that electrical current could pass through Emma with just the touch of their lips.

 

“We go the other way,” Regina said. “You and me and Henry. We find a ship. We sail away, leave Snow White and Prince Charming and all the rest to be as evil and as awful as they want.”

 

Emma shook her head. Tried to say no, but couldn’t. She could only shake her head.

 

“Without me being here, Snow won’t have any trigger. She’ll calm down. She can be a good queen, I know. And we can be happy. Just the three of us. Far, far away…”

 

“These are my friends,” Emma said helplessly. “My family. I can’t just leave them here to live out some… someone’s sick joke!”

 

“What about me? Am I some joke? Being happy, these _feelings_ I have for you, are they only because of your Author?”

 

“No, I don’t—I don’t know. I don’t think we were supposed to meet.”

 

“ _But we did._ And if we keep going, that all goes away. I go back to Robin, you go back to Hook, why, _just tell me why?”_

Regina’s hands were still on Emma’s face, but no longer preparing her for a kiss. They were clinging to her like without Emma’s skin, Regina might fall right into the earth.

 

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

 

“And I become a monster,” Regina said, doubt curdling into bitterness. “As bad as Snow White. Worse…”

 

“Not anymore. You’re a hero, Regina. And you have, _we have,_ a wonderful boy…”

 

“And this, me, the me you kissed and—she just goes away? I just cease to exist?”

 

“I don’t know!”

 

“You stop caring about me?” It was a bitter question, but Regina’s words weren’t bitter. They were just another kind of tears, like the ones falling down her cheeks.

 

“I’ll always care. Always be your friend, your sister, whatever the world, whatever the curse, whoever and whatever you are, I’ll…” Emma bowed her forehead to Regina. “You, the real you, _the hero—_ I’ll always find you.”

 

Regina cried then. Not like before, the strong tears, the ones she allowed herself. Now she sobbed and all Emma could do was hold Regina to her chest, in the midst of the scattered firewood they’d gathered, and let her be miserable. Tell her it was okay to be miserable. That it would pass. That she’d be happy again. Words Regina had maybe never heard in any of her lives.

 

 

“Three more days to the chapel,” Regina said. “Will you stay with me? I don’t… I don’t wanna kiss anymore. But if you could hold me, like you did before…”

 

“Of course,” Emma said, wondering if this was how Mary-Margaret had hated herself after what she did to Lily. “You can count on me.”


	5. Chapter 5

Emma went to sleep with her arm around Regina. They weren’t cuddling, but sleeping next to each other. Emma’s arm stretched out uncomfortably over Regina’s body. Regina fell asleep seemingly ignoring it, but Emma kept holding it out, kept wanting to move closer, hold Regina closer, more securely. She didn’t. Always a minute later, a minute…

 

She woke up as her arm dropped to the ground. It was early morning, dawn, and Regina had just rolled out from under her arm.

 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Regina whispered so Henry wouldn’t join them in consciousness. “But I’m glad you’re up. I’m going to go wash before we leave. No need to worry.”

 

“Kiss?” Emma asked suddenly, feeling like a puppy barking when it saw its owner had food he wasn’t sharing.

 

Regina smiled unevenly. Leaned in, her lips glancing off Emma’s. Like flint being struck. No sparks. And like she’d hit the end of a bungee cord, Regina was instantly ricocheting back, putting a cordial distance between them. “Just fun, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Emma agreed. “Might as well while we’re young.”

 

“Emma? Don’t follow me.”

 

Emma nodded. Privacy. It was underrated.

 

Regina left, walking around the steep, wood-furred shore of the ponds. It was full of jagged projections of rock into the body of water, providing plenty of coves for Regina to bathe in peace. Emma sat up, further sleep impossible. She rotated her Regina-arm out of its knotted stiffness, looked out in the direction Regina had gone, then tended to the fire. Well, more like poked the cold ashes with a stick. No sparks there either. Just the husks of the woods they’d gathered, collapsing into grit and gray when she poked them.

 

Henry yawned coming awake, sounding like Emma felt, contorting his so-fragile body to rip the kinks out of his bones. Not used to sleeping on stiff ground instead of soft bed. Not like Emma. Not like this Regina.

 

Emma promised herself she’d get him home before he got used to this nightmare.

 

“Hey,” he called out to Emma, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Where’s Mom?”

 

“Taking a bath,” Emma said, now drawing idly in the inch-deep ash with her stick. “Which you should be doing, as soon as she’s done. You’re gonna get potatoes in your ears at this rate.”

 

His little brow did its impression of a furrow. “Your parenting is so weird.”

 

“What do you expect, I learned it from like ninety foster homes? Awww, just go for a swim. It’ll count.”

 

Henry cracked his neck until Emma thought it would fall off. “Has Regina been gone long?”

 

“I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to this stuff.”

 

“I mean, is she going to be back soon?”

 

“Maybe! Probably. I don’t know. You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

 

Getting up, with the furs that had blanketed now serving as a shawl, Henry walked to sit down on the log opposite the one Emma sat on. In the ashes between them, Emma had drawn a couple smiley faces, a couple frowny faces, a few faces with no lips whatsoever.

 

“Okay, what’s going on with you two?” Henry asked.

 

“Standard-issue weirdness, kid. It’s not like I was ever really invited over to binge-watch Netflix.” Now there was a scary thought. Regina wanting her to stretch out on the couch, catch up on Pretty Little Liars—maybe her sitting all prim on one side of the couch while Emma laid across two cushions. Regina rubbing her ankle just underneath the cuff of her jeans, testing how high she could—

 

Emma stamped a dot right between the eyes of one of the little cartoon faces she’d made in the ash. Henry was talking again. “ _First,_ there was the standard-issue weirdness. She treated you exactly like she treated me. Then it was like she was making fun of you. You know, busting your balls.”

 

“My balls?” Emma asked dubiously.

 

“You know what I mean. And that’s kinda… standard-issue weirdness, yeah. But _then,_ you started being real friendly, and joking around with each other, and acting all… happy. And _now_ you’re acting really guilty for some reason.”

 

Emma needed to eat something. She needed a bearclaw, which meant either this reality needed to get on inventing donuts or she needed to eighty-six that _fucking_ wedding.

 

She settled on eating an apple instead. Oh, Regina _would_ fill her pack with those. “What could I possibly feel guilty about? It’s not like I’m friends with this Regina or anything. Lily was like my best friend and I shot her with a cannon because this her was a bitch. It just doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but getting home.”

 

Henry just looked at her. If he’d inherited her superpower, this would be a really bad time for it to manifest. “Are you two having sex?”

 

Emma swallowed enough apple to keep a doctor away for a good ten hours. “Whoa! Whoa! I don’t even know what—what’s sex? Is that a thing? That doesn’t sound like a thing, I think you’ve gotten hoaxed by some internet hoaxing. Did you check Snopes about this sex-whatever-it-is?”

 

“Mom. C’mon. I’m literally as tall as you. I know what sex is.”

 

Now Emma remembered. Back when Regina had given her and the kid brand spanking new memories of being mother and son, she’d helpfully included sex ed, sparing Emma actually having to do it when Henry had just downloaded memories of a strangely polite and well-informed Emma giving him the lowdown. Emma guessed that even if Regina was going to another dimension, she didn’t want Henry anywhere near Teen Mom.

 

“Still, not an appropriate question.”

 

“Alright. Have you and Regina been having special grown-up hugs?”

 

Teenagers. She could no longer blame her parents for sticking her in another dimension until she turned thirty.

 

Emma threw up her hands. “Why is this suddenly such a big deal? I didn’t get the third degree when I kissed Hook! It’s just I was in prison, and your mom’s hot, and… I don’t know! I guess when we’re not trying to kill each other, I like kissing her! Pile that onto all the other inexplicable weirdness in my life!”

 

Henry was just openly staring at her. “But you’re in love with Hook. And she’s in love with Robin.”

 

“Yeah,” Emma said, realizing at some point she’d jumped to her feet. Which were now in the middle of her little dead-fire mosaic. She sat back down. “Yeah. Ain’t we just?”

 

“Aren’t you?”

 

“That’s what I just said!”

 

“No, you said—“

 

“Stop right there, because I know you’re not correcting my grammar. So you must be…” Emma waved her hands around her head. “You must be, for some inexplicable reason, asking me if I’m in love with your mom. Regina Mills.”

 

“It makes sense.”

 

And Emma’s hands came back down. “Really? Me and Regina? She’s tried to kill me. _With baked goods._ Even if we sorta… kinda… have this connection… she’s bad. She’s a very bad girl—“

 

“I don’t need to hear this,” Henry said suddenly.

 

“ _Not what I meant._ And eww. I mean, she’s always going to be kinda ruthless. And I’m possibly literally incapable of being immoral. We’re like Catwoman and Batman.”

 

“Catwoman and Batman—“

 

“Yeah, special grown-up hug, bad analogy.” Emma shook her head. The kid was giving her a headache, which was usually a very unpleasant precursor to her being right. “Okay, so in some dumb, opposites attract sorta way, there is— _something—_ of a romanic… _dumbness._ I don’t know. I have bad taste in men. Why should women be any different?”

 

“I always sorta thought that you and my mom would get along really well if it weren’t for how I came in-between you. And then all that bad blood you had. If you just met as strangers, you’d see how much you have in common. And now you kinda have.”

 

Emma groaned. Headache not going away. “Like I said. Romantic dumbness. But I’m with Hook and she’s with Robin…”

 

“It’s not like you’re married or anything.”

 

Headache setting up permanent residence in Emma’s skull. “Whose side are you on here, kid?”

 

“My mom really hasn’t spent that much time with Robin. And sure, you’ve been spending a lot of time with Killian lately, but not nearly as much time as you’ve spent with Regina.”

 

“Not exactly the same thing.”

 

“How long did it take you to kiss Regina? _This_ Regina?”

 

Emma’s jaw dropped. “First off, it is _super inappropriate_ to be asking about special adult kisses of _anyone,_ let alone your co-moms…”

 

Henry blinked. “What’s a special adult kiss?”

 

Emma blinked. “Oh. You mean like… a kiss-kiss… yeah… that figures.” She looked away. “Although you should probably learn about a special adult kiss when you start dating. I wish my high school boyfriend had known about ‘em…”

 

Henry’s shoulders peaked. “How long?”

 

“Okay, pretty darn fast,” Emma confessed. “But there were extenuating circumstances!”

 

“There were extenuating circumstances in the real world too. Where you _won’t_ kiss her.”

 

Emma’s head drifted back. Maybe if she screamed, it would release the pressure. “Hook is my _guy,_ okay? We’re in the damn book!”

 

“So is all this!” Henry insisted, throwing his arms out to his sides in a very all-encompassing gesture for such a non-tall. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but the book was written _by a crazy person._ Who cares what’s in it? It has every bad thing Mom ever thought about, but not anything about Grandpa and Grandma kidnapping a baby. It’s just… bad writing. You know what comic books do with bad writing?”

 

“Turn it into a Superman movie?” Emma quipped. Small relief in the sea of headache.

 

“ _They ignore it._ And they tell new stories.”

 

Emma got up. She thought she saw what it was. Maybe she wasn’t Mrs. Sensitivity, but yeah, she got it. Henry had his little nuclear family—Regina and Emma and Mary-Margaret and David—all almost under one roof. And now it was breaking up, like a crazy divorce. The Charmings going with Neal, Emma with Hook, Regina with Robin. Regina’s new family even had another kid, a baby on the way! Henry wanted his makeshift, MacGyver family to stay together and Emma’s little flirtation with Regina had put all the ammunition he needed right in his gun.

 

She sat down beside him. “Okay. So say I don’t love Hook. And things don’t work out between Regina and Robin either. That still doesn’t mean we’re in love. Well, no—we are. Just not with each other. With you.”

 

Henry groaned. “Can you please not patronize me? I’m really worried.”

  
“Worried?”

 

“That you won’t be happy. You two care so much about each other’s happiness, you just don’t see it’s _you._ Both of you. Did you even notice how happy you were when you were together? And now that you’re apart, aren’t you _miserable?”_

Maybe if she shaved her head, she would stop getting these urges to tear her hair out. “Alright, you want me to say it? Fine. If—huge, like, _skywriting_ IF—there were no other considerations, no Storybrooke, no magic, no _nothing…_ if I was browsing Tindr and I saw Regina, I would swipe that. I’d go on dates with her and I’d text her jokes and—“ _The sex would be goddamn amazing, kid, you have no idea how many orgasms a woman can actually_ have. “And we’d get a cat. But she’s seeing someone! I’m seeing someone! And literally the fate of the world—well, this crappy, internally inconsistent world—depends on her seeing that someone! So it really doesn’t matter how much I want to hug and kiss her, because _it’s not going to happen.”_

“And you think that’s fair to her? Not letting her know how you feel?”

 

“I don’t feel…” Emma paused. She really regretted giving her parents the Riot Act over lying to her. It left her precious little room to bullshit Henry. “I don’t know how I feel. It’s like you’re asking me if I want to marry her! Your mom, by the way. Which is weird, you’re wingmanning for your mom right now. Weirdo.”

 

“I don’t know about marriage, just if you want to—eventually—get a cat.”

 

Emma sighed. Hated this. Hated thinking about nice, normal dates and… oh God… maybe coming home and asking the babysitter if Henry had been good, or finding him passed out over all the homework he’d been doing, Regina giving Emma a little _look…_ adoring and proud and regretting, a little, that Henry had only had one of his parents for so long, he was so _Regina_ it hurt sometimes, and she wanted him to be _Emma’s_ too, to have fun, to crack a smile, to be a kid.

 

“I want to hold her,” Emma said, because at least that was real. There was some possible reality where that could happen. “And I want her to be happy and I want her to be safe. And if I bring back the other her, she’ll have you. She’ll be happy. And she’ll have magic, so she’ll be safe. And everyone else will be happy, and you’ll be happy—“

 

“And what about you? And Hook?”

 

Emma’s heart should not have fallen at the thought. But after the thing with Regina—God, she didn’t even want to name it—this suspicious, straining, trying _work_ she had with Hook seemed pathetic. She had to convince herself, and let him convince her, that it was more than just the handsomeness of his appearance and the desperation of his attraction to her, the hunger that made her too slow to say no.

 

Regina was effortless in comparison. Emma had to fight for it, but _God,_ she loved fighting for it. She loved letting Regina in. She loved being let in.

 

Henry read her face. “You just have to tell her how you feel. She feels the same way. I think she has for a really long time.”

 

Emma shook her head. Her mind was a house of cards and the motion brought it all down. Migraine city. “Don’t give me the ‘be a good person’ spiel. I’m being a great person. I’m giving up what I want for the greater good! That’s noble!”

 

“Is it easy?”

 

“No, it’s not—“

 

“Is it easier than telling her how you feel? Being honest? Being brave?”

 

Emma paused. “Shut up, you’re like twelve.”

 

“I just want you to be okay again. Like you were yesterday. You just really seemed like you then.”

 

Screaming and tearing out her hair had ceased to be tempting options. Now Emma just wanted to lie down on the ground and maybe wait for a bear to eat her.

 

“What happens after we stop the wedding?” she asked.

 

Henry shrugged. “Everything goes back to normal.”

 

“I really could use something more specific than ‘normal’. Will she remember? What if she doesn’t remember, what if I’m the only one who—it’ll be like losing her. And every time she gets angry with me, I’ll know that… Jesus, kid, what makes you think I’ve even in love with her?”

 

Henry shrugged again. A little, childish gesture. “Because you’re so scared of it.”

 

“I’m not _scared._ ”

 

“It’s okay. Everyone’s scared of new things. They can really suck. But sometimes, they’re really great. And that’s why it’s important to be brave.”

 

“Please tell me I didn’t teach you that,” Emma begged.

 

“It was on Mary-Margaret’s Platitude A Day Calendar.”

 

“Oh thank God.”

 

***

 

Emma _really_ couldn’t picture Regina bathing in a lake—well, she could, but technically that would’ve counted as frolicking. However, walking around the shoreline a bit, she spotted the clothes Regina had neatly hung up on a tree branch overlooking the water. Yup. That was how Regina would bathe in a lake.

 

Emma looked out at the water and there Regina was, about twenty feet from shore, waist-deep in the water, her arms hugged around her chest so her fingers gripped her shoulders. Her head was bowed and even from behind, Emma could see the way her shoulder shuffled. She was sobbing.

 

Oh, hell.

 

“Regina!” Emma called, wading out after her. The water instantly plastered her trousers to her legs like the world’s thickest plastic bag, making her wish she’d disrobed a little before going for a swim, but that would probably have sent the wrong message.

 

Regina barely acknowledged her cry, turning her head slightly, but resolutely keeping her back turned to Emma, even as the blonde high-legged through the water and murk to reach her, to move a delicate hand toward her, to rest it in the choppy water instead.

 

“Regina,” Emma said again.

 

There was something undeniably _impressive_ about Regina looking away from her, pale back subtly muscled, traced with scars, spine held straight, pride in the cast of her head and the set of her jaw. Then she sniffled.

 

“Can I not even _cry_?” Regina asked, and somewhat uncharitably Emma thought that this Regina had a leg up on processing emotions over the other one. It couldn’t be for lack of practice… maybe Emma just really had hurt her that deep.

 

“Admittedly, I don’t want you to.” Emma reached out again, ridiculously relieved when Regina didn’t shy away from her touch, her hand squeezing hard on Regina’s shoulder. “Look, there’s something you should know about me: I’m an idiot.”

 

Regina made a tsking noise. Emma forced herself on, reminding herself that Regina was still letting her touch her.

 

“I thought it would be easier if what we had wasn’t that big a deal, because maybe it won’t last. And I guess… maybe it won’t. But it wasn’t just fun to me. It was affection and warmth and love and I needed that. I still do. And maybe you need that too.”

 

“So now you’re in love with me.” Regina turned around, her arms across her chest not exactly hiding her nudity—more like protecting herself.

 

Emma put both her hands on Regina’s shoulders. “Your son just spent like half an hour lecturing me and I guess he must get the brains from you. It’s not like lying to people for their own good and hiding your feelings has ever really worked out well for me.”

 

Regina caught the guilt in Emma’s eyes. “But we’re still going to the church.”

 

“Yes,” Emma agreed, hating herself for how Regina _winced,_ without surprise,like she’d been expecting the hit. “Because it’s the right thing to do and if it were me who’d forgotten, and you were still you, you’d be telling me the exact same thing.”

 

“So what does it matter? How you feel? How I feel? It doesn’t change _anything._ ”

 

“It changes everything!” Emma argued. “I am not giving you up to Robin and I’m not going back to Hook. I want to be with you, whether it’s for three days or three decades. I love you.”

 

Emma froze, looking at Regina. The slow, questing look in Regina’s eyes as she delved into Emma’s expression for any insincerity, any sign of a joke, a lie, a manipulation. All she found was more and more _truth_ , Emma beaming it at her, how much she cared for her, how much she wanted her, how much she loved her. All Regina had to do was look for it. All Emma had to do was not hide.

 

The water swirled, went white as Regina surged forward, body pressed against Emma’s, arms pulling her tight as if to make up for all the times she’d let go, lips finding Emma’s and they were made to kiss, to moan as Regina grabbed Emma by her ponytail and pulled her down to better have her mouth. The water sloshed as Regina leapt partially out of it, legs wrapping around Emma’s body, her weight pulling Emma deeper in, the pond rising around them to cushion and support their bodies.

 

And then it stopped being so urgent. The kiss lingered, changing, slowing, becoming Regina being comforted by the simple presence of Emma in her arms and against her flesh. It broke. Regina rested her forehead against Emma’s, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. Her whole body was in a state of frenzy, like she was being pursued by the Queen’s whole army with two arrows in her already, but she was calm, she was serene, she had Emma.

 

Emma relaxed too, twirling Regina in her arms while she giggled at the cliché—yeah, why not?—then pausing to wipe Regina’s tears away. Regina splashed her. Emma feigned dropping her into the drink. They kissed again. Slower. Not trying to find anything out, but just enjoying what was there. Regina didn’t grope Emma (not that Emma would’ve minded), but held her tight. Rested her chin on Emma’s shoulder as Emma kissed her neck.

 

Emma knew what she was thinking. Three days of this. It would never be enough, could never be enough. But it was so much more than she ever thought she would have.

 

“Emma,” Regina said gently.

 

“You better not be asking me to put you down.”

 

“No. I was just wondering—“ Regina jerked her head to the side. “What’s with the big circle of color?”

 

Emma looked to one side, then the other. On her left, there was a half-circle of magical energy washing over the land. On her right, another half-circle going in the opposite direction. There was one behind Regina too, and Emma guessed Regina had seen it looking behind her.

 

True Love’s Kiss. Wait, did that mean Emma could’ve ended this at any time just by kissing Henry’s cheek?

 

 _I am such an idiot,_ Emma thought, as the world broke up from the outside in.

 

She hung onto Regina until the very end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I will now be releasing one monthly bonus story to my Patreon, exclusively for supporters. This month's exclusive is based on the leaked Supergirl pilot. Go to Patreon and do a search for Seriousfic.


	6. Chapter 6

Luckily—or unluckily, depending on how you look at it—Emma did not reappear in Storybrooke soaking wet with a naked Regina Mills in her arms. She jerked up from the floor of her parents’ apartment, feeling an acute _missing_ where Regina had been pressed to her. Phantom Limb Syndrome.

 

Meanwhile, Mary-Margaret babbled about whether she had any real morality or if she was just born into circumstances fortunate enough for her to be a good person. As David started to comfort her, Emma ran to check on Henry. He was fine. A bit confused, but fine. She told him she and Regina had cast a spell together.

 

Henry stared at her suspiciously. Emma guessed he wasn’t worrying about what to get Hook for Father’s Day at the moment. “We should probably get the Author before he causes any more trouble,” Henry said at last, Emma nodding.

 

“Yeah, I’m pretty over having to hear sentences like that. Everything feels so meta all of a sudden. Like a bad season of Community.”

 

“You mean Season 4?”

 

Emma huffed a sigh. “See? That kinda thing. The in-jokes. Hate that. I’ll call Ruby, tell her to go after anyone who smells like dragon blood.”

 

“Be nice to remind the Author that Ruby exists. We haven’t heard from her in a while,” Henry needled.

 

Emma rolled her eyes. She needed to find Regina. Write her own damn ending.

 

***

 

David was still consoling Mary-Margaret when Emma came downstairs (“We were _together,_ but we were still _bad people!”)._ She promised herself she’d check in on her mother later. Never really got any easier to deal with reality shifting under her. Between breakfast and lunch of that day, she’d stopped seeing Regina as some unpredictable mix of rival, ally, friend, mentor, partner, and thinspiration, and started seeing her—

 

On her doorstep. With her hand raised to knock just as Emma had opened the door.

 

Emma quickly stepped out into the hall. It might’ve been fun for Regina to see Mary-Margaret going through a crisis of conscience, but there were probably psychological terms why that was a bad idea. “Hey.”

 

Regina smiled wryly. “Hey.” Such a pathetic greeting between the two of them, but at least it was honest at not at all capturing their—whatever.

 

“Henry’s fine,” Emma said.

 

“Gold’s down for the count,” Regina added. “And if you got him and Belle a toaster for their wedding, I’d ask for it back.”

 

“And Ruby’s on the Author—“

 

“Good choice. I sent Maleficent. We shouldn’t hear much from him anytime soon.”

 

“Unless he gives her indigestion.”

 

Regina’s eyebrows flared, indignantly protective of her friend. “I don’t think Teen Wolf Season 10 has much room to talk!”

 

Emma smiled apologetically. “I wasn’t complaining. I don’t exactly remember a lot of being locked up in a dungeon for six years.”

 

“Wasn’t it seven?”

 

Emma shrugged— _my point exactly._ “But still, he couldn’t even let me be evil and hot? That was my one shot at being evil and hot!”

 

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Regina assured her. “Well, if that’s all…”

 

She turned to leave.

 

“Regina!” Emma cried out, though Mills was _right there._ Mating call of _Swannicus Dumbassus_ , she thought to herself. “How much do you remember about… all that?”

 

Regina looked at her. She could control everything about her appearance except the way she looked at Emma… “How much do you want me to remember?”

 

Emma kissed her. Not just her lips, but she tried to kiss Regina’s past, her future, her mistakes, her triumphs—her soul.

 

And Regina pulled away. “I’m not her,” she said.

 

She turned herself to smoke practically in Emma’s arms, running away.

 

***

 

Another round of fake memories, another villain defeated, another night out at Granny’s. Only Emma wasn’t there amongst the heroes. She went to a dive bar close to the docks. It was almost deserted at the moment—an event like this brought everyone together, even Grumpy at his most eponymous. It was the hardliners who populated The Rabbit Hole.

 

“Who invited the Savior?” Maleficent complained loudly, observing Emma coming through the door.

 

Regina hadn’t, but nonetheless she stood, staring down Maleficent. “I did,” she said, daring Maleficent and her quasi-villain, baby dragon, faux-leather daughter to do something about it.

 

Maleficent just went back to her drink, glancing out the corner of her eye at the bar, where Smee was hitting on Ursula. She was giving him just enough rope to hang himself. Bo Peep was setting up shots. Some of the rowdier Lost Boys played darts with Keith, while Sidney played a pinball machine in the corner, Lily’s money on the glass, waiting for the next game. The belles of the ball were the Queens of Darkness, and seeing how Emma looked at Regina, they gave her possessive, defensive glares. Whatever else their problems, they were loyal to their friend. Emma got that.

 

“I brought party favors,” Emma said, reaching into her jacket pocket for a baggie.

 

“Flower seeds?” Lily quipped. “So we can all have a happy little garden?”

 

Emma tossed the bad to her. Good catch. “Some weed David picked up off Lampwick. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me disposing of it as I see fit.”

 

Lily opened the bag. “Better be some good shit.”

 

“I’m pretty sure Anton’s growing it, so yeah.” Emma gave the assorted forces of evil a look. “Regina, a word?”

 

Regina hadn’t looked at her once. Sitting back down, she’d picked up her tumbler and stared at it. Emma thought she got it. _Why am I not drinking alone? I have better booze than this at my place._

 

Maybe she’d known Emma would check there. Or maybe she’d just wanted to have some friends on hand in case this conversation happened, and it did as much damage as Emma feared it might.

 

“Go on, Reggie,” Maleficent taunted coyly. “Don’t make our Sheriff break out the handcuffs.”

 

Regina eyefucked Maleficent as she stood, an unsteady wobble as alcohol intake combined with five-inch heels, then she walked with regal dignity out past Emma, all the spite in the world in the wag of her hips. Emma looked back at Maleficent, seeing if she’d gotten the message. Mal winked at her.

 

They walked out the backdoor, into the alley behind the Rabbit Hole, its narrowness giving the breeze from the coast a straight shot through and past them. The sea air was cool and damp, a thrillingly pleasant sensation that rushed under Emma’s clothes and made her feel like at least losing her jacket.

 

She wondered if Regina felt the same thing; the same resistance to the idea. She was dressed even more severely than she’d been at the apartment. Her pantsuit was further straitjacketed by a heavy trenchcoat, even a cravat obscuring her pale throat. More than enough for the chilly night, but there was a forced casualness in how she held her coat shut anyway. Busying herself with belting it together.

 

So poised. All her make-up, all her clothes—all her armor. Emma had never appreciated just how open she could be… how open she _wasn’t…_ until meeting the her she could’ve been. The hero she was meant to be before Gold and Leopold and Cora and so many others had decided she was a tool they could use for this scheme or that. Cut her and broken her so many times that the only way she had to fight back was to use her own jagged edges against them.

 

“If you’re going to tell me that Henry misses me at your big party, you can save it. If the boy has two mothers, and a family tree the size of _Yggdrasil,_ he should be okay with me having a social life.”

 

Yggdrasil? “How the hell did you pronounce that?”

 

Regina shook her head. “He isn’t… wondering where I am… is he?” Shaking her head more to clear it of the shots than in reaction to Emma.

 

“He gets it. Regina Mills’ alone time. But you might be surprised at how much my parents are missing you. They’re kinda in a mood to mend fences. And they would’ve loved if you’d brought a casserole…”

 

Regina laughed shrilly. “That’s the hell of it, isn’t it? Your… bosom buddy in the other world, she would’ve fit right in there. But I’m sure she doesn’t have thirty years’ experience making casserole.”

 

Emma took a step toward Regina. She remembered what it felt like to have your entire life be a lie, to walk a tightrope over hysteria and everyone you knew seemed to have a rock to throw at you. And they thought they were helping…

 

Regina looked at her, a flicker of suspicion in her eyes, and Emma stopped. Sometimes, people wanting to help was what hurt the worst. When you thought you didn’t deserve it…

 

“Henry made me quite a good cook,” Regina continued. “He was a very picky eater.”

 

“Yeah, I remember.” Emma tapped her temple. “Thanks to you.”

 

Regina shook her head again. No cobwebs out yet. “I just wanted you to know what it felt like to change all those diapers.”

 

Enough. “Regina, you’re not _that!”_ Emma promised, pointing hard at the bar.

 

“Now who’s—“

 

“Okay!” Emma rethought her statement. “Maybe you’re kinda that. But you are so much more!”

 

“What? Snow White’s understudy?” Regina sagged. Emma could see the effect admitting what had happened took on her. “Odd that you’d be attracted to that by the way. Quite incestuous.”

 

“I wasn’t attracted to you living in the woods— _trust me_ —I was attracted to _you_. How can you remember everything else but not what I _told you?”_ Not quite another step, but it wanted to be, Emma inching her foot forward to see if Regina would be happy or saddened by it. “What I promised you.”

“I won’t hold you to some… promise you made to another woman.”

 

“That was you,” Emma insisted, “ _she’s_ a part of you—“

 

Regina shook her head with the repetitive motion of a machine. No cobwebs anymore. She was clear and sober and all too aware. “Nonetheless. Whoever I could’ve been or should’ve been, I’m _this_. Regina Mills. The Mayor. The Evil Queen. That’s not changing.”

 

“I don’t want it to. Everything I said to her, I was saying to you. Everything we built started between me and you.”

 

“But she’s the one you kissed. She’s the one you made love to. _Not me.”_ Regina bit her lip and looked like she’d like to do far more damage to herself. “We’ve known each other all these years and it never happened for us. But the _day_ you met her… so noble, so heroic… _her_ you couldn’t resist…”

 

It was so hard to care about Regina’s boundaries when everything in Emma was _screaming_ that she could make it better by embracing her, hold Regina close and make her feel how Emma’s heart was beating for her. But Emma held herself still. Only allowed herself a single step toward Regina, backing her against the wall of the alley.

 

“So I’m an idiot! I had to see you at your absolute best to realize who you’d been all along. Because you and— _you_ aren’t so very different.”

 

“She was a fantasy,” Regina argued. “Whole where I’m broken beyond repair…”

 

“Bullshit! You think you’re so different, but the truth is, you’re even stronger than she was. She wasn’t tested like you were, tempted like you were. She was a fairy tale, but that’s not what I want. I want the real story. I want you.”

 

“But she was nothing like me!” Regina felt behind her, as if there was some way through the brick wall that trapped her with Emma’s gaze. “Selfless, brave, and true—doesn’t it tell you something that reality had to be _rewritten_ before that could be me?”

 

“I don’t think that at all. I think she came from you. Just like Snow White’s darkness came from her. She kidnapped a baby, you—“ Emma spread her arms wide, breaking out in a grin that she couldn’t resist because she could _tell_ Regina, she could make her see. “This! This town is still standing because of you! Because you’re a hero! Isaac gave you an excuse, he pointed you in a direction, but the woman I met? That was all you. Or do you think he wrote that you’d fall in love with me? That I’d be in love with you?”

 

Regina gathered herself for a moment—poised and armored and invincible—before sagging against the wall in such a _human_ gesture that it almost took Emma’s breath away. She looked away from Emma, grinding her shoulder into the brickwork. “You don’t understand. I _can’t be her._ Holding your hand or falling asleep next to you—kissing you—trusting you—none of that will come easy to me. It’s alright if you’re disappointed in that. I’m used to not getting everything I want. I can be happy with just being your friend. With being Henry’s mother. Maybe even with—having some kind of happiness with Robin. He’s not Daniel. He can _not be_ you too.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes. “Well, at least being a martyr comes easy to you. I _know_ it’s going to be hard, Gina. I know people won’t get it. I know Hook’s—probably going to stalk me. God help us all if he figures out what Facebook is…”

 

Regina’s eyes flashed dangerously. “ _That_ won’t be happening.”

 

“He’ll get over it,” Emma assured her. She leaned against the wall next to Regina, twisting a little in what felt like a dance, helplessly smiling as she detected a bit of relief in Regina, some hope. “Henry. You’d still love Henry if he lost an arm, right?”

 

“I’d love him even if he lost his left arm!” Regina teased, mock-affronted.

 

The spell was broken. The boundless self-confidence, even arrogance of the Evil Queen was coming back to Regina. It took a lot to defeat the inner demons screaming how worthless she was, how evil and filthy and awful, but Emma could feel them retreating. She’d be honored if it was something to do with her—but she thought it had far more to do with Regina letting herself be happy.

 

Emma felt her smile widen. Maybe her happy ending was being Regina’s happy ending. “Yeah. And you’d love him if he suddenly became a scene kid.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Or if he became a vegan.”

 

“You’re scaring me now. But yes.”

 

“Okay! So… same deal. I love you while you’re dealing with your issues and having nightmares. And however you’re trying to be a better person, I’ll help you with that, and I’ll love that—better person you. And if you slip, I’ll love that slipped you, and get you back on your feet. And I love you right now. The you you are right this second of this minute of this day. And if you’re just this… Regina Mills… the Mayor… the Evil Queen… then I love you. I don’t want you to redeem yourself. I don’t want you to prove yourself to me. I don’t want you to earn me. I just want you to be as in love with me as I am with you.”

 

Regina sighed. “You’re kinda locking me in to loving you as you are.”

 

“Regina!”

 

“You’re wonderful!” Regina assured her. “I adore you… but if you took off your heels when you came into the house…”

 

“This is peak romance for us, isn’t it? All downhill from here.”

 

“I pay my heating bill. I vacuum regularly. Why do you need to have your shoes on in my house? I have a Roomba.”

 

“The ideal moment to kiss me is quickly passing.”

 

Regina leaned in. Paused. “I could buy you slippers!”

 

Emma grabbed Regina by her little cravat—which was cute as all hell—and showed Regina how nice a kiss could be, even if it didn’t destroy an alternate reality.

 

“I want bunny slippers,” Emma said afterward. Once Regina had sufficiently swooned.

 

“Emma, _no.”_


End file.
